


Brief: Time

by quenti



Category: Be More Chill - Iconis/Tracz
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Angst, Fluff and Angst, Humour, M/M, Pining, Slow Burn, art college au, halloween and fun stuff, outdoor cinemas and, theres
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-10-23
Updated: 2017-11-04
Packaged: 2019-01-21 20:10:03
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,937
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12464996
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/quenti/pseuds/quenti
Summary: "Just transferred from fine art," Rich explains."So, you decided to join the cool kids, huh?" Michael turns back to Jeremy with a crooked grin, "Jokes on you, we're all losers."Jeremy already feels at home.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [PrinceDrew](https://archiveofourown.org/users/PrinceDrew/gifts).

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> AN/ Jeremys crushing on all the characters in bmc because so am I 
> 
>  
> 
> AAN/ Drew don't choke on your hot chocolate

Jeremy Heere looks at the college he'd been attending for a year, and feels like a stranger in its shadow. 

The building was the same as always, a quick walk from his dorm and tall and elegant and today, especially, intimidating. Jeremy was a fine art student. _Was._

Today he switched to graphic communication. He'd considered it a good game plan, but obviously, he hadn't been thinking about his stomach jerking nerves and need to vomit and gag at the prospect of change when he'd made the choice. 

"Okay." Jeremy whispers under his breath, grips his bag straps a little tighter as he heads up the familiar stairs and into reception. He thinks of methods of how he can rid of the 'a kid on their first day of big school' vibe, and comes up blank. Instead, he fiddles with the buttons on his cardigan. 

_It's going to be great. It'll be fun. Change isn’t always bad? No, it's not always bad._ He scans his student card, walks through the gates with his new-found confidence. _Graphic communication? I can nail it. New friends? No stress at all, a fresh start, here I-_

Jeremy has no idea where his new room is. 

He stumbles to a stop, muttering apologies as some students narrowly skip around him to avoid crashing into his back. Once his cheeks feel like they're no longer on fire, he forces his gaze around to the room numbers. B1 and B2 were to his right, A13 to his left. He hadn't even visited the graphics department since the opening day at the start of last year. He knew where fashion and textiles were, mainly because Brooke from fine art was friends with two other girls and occasionally they had eaten lunch there. 3D was in another building. Graphics? Jeremy's palms grow clammy and hot. 

So, he does what he always does and sought the help of his tutor who wasn’t even his tutor anymore. 

When he reaches his old studio, he almost knocks before gritting his teeth. He'd only changed speciality, it wasn't a big deal. Pushing open the door, his eyes jitter around the room before he finally steps inside. 

"Jeremy!" A very cheerful and very recognisable voice immediately greets him. 

"Hey, Christine." 

"I didn't think I'd be seeing you for a while," She's sat at her desk, already surrounded by her work and a pen in hand and a pencil behind her ear. Christine is always first in the studio, always ready with her art scattered on the desk and somehow still organised and ready to work with a smile on her face. Jeremy feels a little flicker of sadness at the empty seat beside her, his old place in this class. He already misses her. "Did you forget you switched class?" 

"Hah! About that," Jeremy hesitates, sitting on the edge of the desk. "Do you know where-" He looks at the smudged letter on his hand. "D3 is?" 

Christine's smile drops into something exasperated. "You switched to graphics and you don't even know where it is?" 

"Well..." No point lying, "No." 

"Morning, Jeremy! Christine!" 

Jeremy spins to see Brooke enter with a huge coffee in her hands, looking especially adorable wrapped up in a huge scarf and blonde hair pulled up into a messy bun. How she has a grin on her face at this time of day was beyond Jeremy, who looks like he's just rolled out of bed and arrived in his pyjamas. Which he basically had. Minus his baggy trousers, which he'd traded for some worn jeans. 

"Morning!" Christine responds, and Jeremy shoots her a smile that he hopes isn't too pained or hideous. 

Brooke doesn't scream, so, score. "What's up?" 

"Jeremy has no idea where graphics is." 

"I know where graphics is," Jeremy huffs, "I just don't know which part I'm meant to be in." 

Brooke shrugs apologetically, "It is confusing." 

"Thank you, Brooke." Jeremy says. 

"But not that confusing." 

"Thank you, Brooke!" Christine adds, pleased. Jeremy lets out a whine of betrayal. 

Brooke sets her coffee down on the table, unravelling her scarf and laying it over the back of her chair before taking a seat with a sweet smile. "How will you all be celebrating Halloween then?" 

"Pumpkin carving!" Christine says with such enthusiasm Jeremy doesn't mention the fact they all get smashed by drunk teens as soon as they're in plain sight. 

"Pumpkin carvings, fun, okay. But!" Brooke lifts a finger, cocks a brow, "There's a horror movie fest going on. Outdoor cinema about twenty minutes away. We should do a squad trip!" 

Jeremy tips his head back to look at the ceiling, "That sounds soggy." 

"Heere, I already have a ride that is saving a spot for you. You're coming." 

"I don't have a choice?" 

"No," Brooke confirms firmly, with a smile. "No, you don't. This Saturday, we'll pick you up at six. Christine, you're also coming." 

"I can't wait!" Christine beams. "What movie?" 

Brooke purses her lips, thoughtfully. "Something gorey?" 

"Hey, Brooke, have you seen Simon?" Jeremy interrupts, eyeing the clock. 

Simon Reeves was his tutor. The dude was the definition of cool, hair that naturally waved and brushed out of his face. Expression always collected, emotions carefully balanced and witty comments for days. 

Brooke nods, waiting till she's swallowed some coffee before saying, "He's in the café pouring vodka into his coffee." 

Christine splutters on air, "For real?" 

Another nod, Jeremy bit his bottom lip to stop himself laughing. 

Christine went on, manically attempting to convince Brooke that their tutor drinking vodka in his coffee before class is _'very bad!'_ and _'definitely illegal!'_ whilst Jeremy slips out, waving a quick goodbye and promising to visit often enough. He couldn't help the pang of sadness at leaving. He'd grown close to both Christine and Brooke and spending the rest of his studio time without them would be lonely. Not to mention Simon. Although they'd had their fair share of disagreements, his tutor had always helped him through when he needed it. He always had a solution, no matter how much Jeremy messed up. Which was, to say the least, often. 

Pent up in his thoughts, he almost walks straight past his target if it wasn't for a firm hand landing on his bony shoulder. Jeremy flinches, staring up at Simon, then his coffee-with-vodka mug, which was patterned with flowers and labelled with 'World's Best Mother'- a gift from Christine. 

"Jeremy Heere," He greets with an easy smile. "I thought you'd been banished to the graphic communication region?" 

A nervous laugh bubbles out of Jeremy's throat. 

"You're lost.” It’s not a question. 

The dude could also read _minds._ "A little?" 

"Clearly I should scold you here, but, I'm actually quite impressed with how unprepared you are." 

"Thanks, Mr Reeves," Jeremy let out a whine, running a hand through his hair. 

"Anytime. I'd also escort you, but I have," He eyes his coffee, subtly. "Business to attend." 

Jeremy doesn’t even have to open his mouth, though he's ready to beg, before, "Mind, I suppose I do have some time to kill before my students start piling in." 

Jeremy doesn't mention the fact Brooke and Christine and some other kids were already in the studio and nods gratefully, "Thank you." 

"Anytime." Simon replies, and they remain otherwise silent as Jeremy trails like a lost puppy after his former tutor. They cross the tunnel that connects the fine art and graphic buildings, Jeremys legs aching at the sheer number of steps they have to climb. The whole mood changes, something Jeremy hadn't bothered to pay attention to till now. Instead of paintings and familiar abstract pieces, there's posters scattered on the white walls, and a cut out mask covering a clock that Jeremy didn't even dare question. 

In record timing, theyre outside room D3. Jeremy makes a deal with himself to check out the building more thoroughly once he got the chance. Simon turns to him and says, "I'm gonna miss you, kiddo." 

"I'll write you letters?" 

"And you killed it." Simon sighs, though it's fond and amused as he waves once. "See you around." 

"Bye! Thank you!" Jeremy watches him leave, then spins to the door and the dread of a new environment and the idea of being alone strikes him like a knife. He's sure if anyone saw his sudden expression turn, it would be comical. 

His mouth tastes sour as he glances through the door window, the practically empty studio with white walls that remind him of his previous room. Shelves and desks and tables scattered with doodles, some impressive and some that left Jeremy wondering what the hell goes on in these pupils' minds. There's a low hum of music and laughter. Jeremy swallows, then moves painfully slow. So slow, he doesn't know whether he's about to sprint away or open the door and- 

"Christ! You're tall!" 

Jeremy almost headbutts the door as he flinches, jerking around to face the voice. 

A student, indeed shorter then himself, stands looking up at Jeremy with huge, dark eyes and a slightly agape mouth. His hair's sandy blonde and spiked with a single red streak that reminds Jeremy of a singular flame burning on the top of his head and freckles painted over his cheeks. 

"Sorry," Jeremy responds. 

"Why are you apologising?" Stranger asks, tipping his head to the side. 

"Sorry?" 

"Wait," Stranger's eyes suddenly bulged even more. Jeremy wonders if he should be worried. "You're the transfer person?" 

"Jeremy," He introduces himself, with a shaky laugh. By God, were all graphics students this confident? 

"Rich!" He responds cheerily, Jeremy takes a while to realise he's got a lisp. "Do you know anyone?" 

After Jeremy announces that, no, he knows nobody in graphic communication and certainly no, he has no idea what he was doing, Rich makes a big fuss of dragging him into his new studio and getting him settled in. 

He points to a desk with each section separated by a short wall and mini shelf that Jeremy had no problem peeking over with his lanky body. Rich, on the other hand, has to practically stand to see the other. And after complaining of aching legs, he pulls his chair over to sit in Jeremy's section of the table. 

It was nice, compact, something Jeremy could easily see himself working in. The walls offering an opportunity to draw and write without distractions. 

Rich leans in, “So, you switched from fine art?” 

“Yeah, I, uh,” _I have no idea what I’m doing,_ Jeremy’s mind provides helpfully. “Testing my options.” 

Rich nods thoughtfully. “I get that. Why didn’t you go into fashion? Fashion looks funky.” 

Jeremy looks down at his ragged, ancient cardigan that was handed down from his Aunt and his converse that used to be white. “Uh,” 

“Because the mannequins in there are creepy as fuck and it’s like walking through a _horror fest_.” A new voice interrupts. 

“Mikey!” Rich bellows, and Jeremy twists in his seat to see who his saviour is. 

Mikey has dark hair that’s fluffed up and wild and eyes framed with chunky glasses. His smile confident and slightly crooked which makes Jeremy all the more in awe because _how does anyone roll up to college looking good?_. He removes his vintage headphones as he approaches, pulling them down to his neck as Jeremy forces himself to breath. 

"And nobody says funky anymore, Richey." He grins lazily, then throws his bag under the table next to Jeremy _-okay, screw no distractions-_ and slumps into the seat beside Rich. The seat that would be directly beside Jeremy once Rich moves back to his seat. "Hey, I'm Michael." 

Jeremy takes a whooping eleven seconds to realise he's talking and looking at him, and splutters. "Jeremy!" 

"Just transferred from fine art," Rich explains. 

"So, you decided to join the cool kids, huh?" Michael turns back to Jeremy with a crooked grin, "Jokes on you, we're all losers." 

Jeremy already feels at home. 

"Speak for yourself-" 

"Especially Rich." 

Richs face scrunches up defensively, something that looked so out of place on him that Jeremy almost laughs. Almost, because the tutor struts in and Jeremy is once again reminded of change. 

Change to him is like dangling on the cliff edge with a rope. 

Rich is the first step, the first person holding that rope and stopping Jeremy from plummeting to the pit of failure and regret. He had the choice to tug Jeremy back up, to the ground of I-Made-A-Good-Choice, or let go. And he's done a great job of tugging, for such a small guy. 

Michael's comfortable attitude had joined Rich, easily. Maybe he was too trusting. But, once he was close enough to grip the edge, he could grasp the good choice by himself. Just a little longer. 

Mr Reyes is a bittersweet tutor. Jeremy feels he'll never be as confident with him as he is around Simon, but he's was okay with that. All he knows is that his new tutor would rather be relaxing in a hammock in Hawaii, and had a weird obsession for hot pockets. But, he does have good ideas, explains the task straight to the point and lets everyone get on with whatever they please, which was good, in Jeremy's eyes. 

Once he gives the instructions, he jots down 'artist research task' (Michael and Rich and the whole class simultaneously groan loudly, rewarding them with a glare from Reyes) and 'collect theme ideas of 'time'' onto the board. Finishes with a professional, "Break a leg." Before he slumps down onto his spinney chair and stuffs some earphones in to ignore the sudden eruption of student babble. 

"Time. Like history and stuff?" Rich squawks, lightening up immediately. 

"Clock," A new kid diagonal from Jeremy supplies with a smile and Jeremy almost falls out of his seat because it seems his new classmates have a thing for just _appearing._

But Holy, does this kid have nice teeth, and hair, and face. He was just... Nice. If Jeremy didn't always feel intimidated, he probably would now. 

"Jakey D!" Rich makes a big effort of sliding out of his seat between Michael and onto the new comers table. "When did you get here?" 

"Literally seconds ago," He responds, then lifts one hand as his pale gaze flickers to Jeremy. "S'up. I'm Jake. Jeremy?" 

Jeremy nods dumbly. 

"Cool." He grins, leaning back in his chair. "I only came to skip the Photoshop tutorial." 

Michael squints, "Don't you need that?" 

"Jake's already a photopro, Mikey," Rich states fondly. Jeremy wonders how long he'll have to know Michael before he can use nicknames. 

"Right," Michael says, that crooked smile slanting his lips again, "And I'm an astronaut." 

"Are you?" Jake arches a brow. 

"God, no." Michael snorts, then adjusts the headphones around his neck. "I'm not special enough to be shot into space." 

Jeremy disagrees strongly with the whole 'not special' opinion, but keeps that to himself. 

Rich goes on to asking Jake about what his brief for the term will be, Jeremy discovering that although he's in the graphics building, he's with animation and game design and only sneaks out occasionally to hang with Rich in his studio. When he talks about his project, he speaks with such certainty and confidence that the feeling of intimidation twists into admiration in Jeremys stomach. 

"Hey," Michael speaks softly, leaning closer to Jeremy, dragging him out of his thoughts. "You want to go to the library?" 

Jeremy must still look dazed, because Michael adds quickly, "For the research task, I mean." 

Oh. 

"Oh," Jeremy squeaks, then nods rapidly, "Yeah! That'd be great and useful, yes." 

Michael _beams_ , and Jeremy takes a note of how his eyes crease when he smiles, "Cool, we'll leave the love birds too it.” 

Jeremy looks over to Rich and Jake who are yelling enthusiastically about how 'Rich, you still owe me a packet of hot cheetos from like, two weeks ago,' and 'Jake, I bought you _two bottles of vodka last week_ ' and quickly scrambles for his bag. 

He's grateful Michael knows where he's going, because the stairs in this building are like a maze to him. He follows his red hoodie with a white bear and intricate detail on the back as if it's his life line, and is slightly disappointed when Michael slings his backpack over both of shoulders. 

"So," Michael speaks up and Jeremy speeds up so their strides are matched, "How come I've never seen you around?" 

"I never really left my old studio," _Or dorm._

"Well, luckily for you, you're in Rich Goranski's studio, and the dude never lets anyone live a peaceful life." He snorts fondly. 

Jeremy wonders if Michael used to be the same as him, unsociable and quiet and barely leaving his comfort zone. The thought is alien to him, and he's only known him an hour or so. 

\- 

Jeremy doesn't feel like he's known Michael an hour or so. They wander up and down the library aisles and the quietness of it all makes Jeremy want to cackle harder when Michael pulls out a book titled, 'Graphic Design for Dummies', moans loudly, and exclaims in a deep voice, "That's the good shit." 

Jeremy flails to snatch up the book and shove it back on the shelf through his wheezing, "You think graphics for dummies is a _game_?" 

They spend the majority of the day in the library, even though they'd had only planned on collecting some books and heading back to the studio. They find a cosy sitting area where Michael almost bangs his head on a dying cactus, and just chat, laugh and completely neglect the work task. Which is fine, Jeremy tells himself, he can catch up later. 

He finds out Michael spends most of his time watching 80's and 90's music videos, adores games, wants to travel and have a peaceful life. Michael finds out Jeremy also loves games, has a pet budgie called Zee that lives in his dorm and is all for that peaceful life, but can't quite nail the peaceful bit. Can't help that feeling of something missing. 

"Just go with the flow," Michael tells him. 

"What if I have no idea where said flow is?" Jeremy responds, curling and leaning into the sofa. 

"Then, I'll just have to help point it out for you." 

Jeremy is weirdly touched by this. He hopes his cheeks are as pink as they feel. 

When they arrive back at the studio, half the pupils are gone from the studio or talking amongst themselves. Jake and Rich are still sat beside each other, except they're both hunched over with furrowed brows and concentrated look as their hands work pens into paper. Jeremy notes Jake is left handed, and their elbows occasionally clash. 

"What are you-" Michael starts. 

"Drawing each other," Rich doesn't look up from his paper. 

"Huh." Michael slumps so he's sat on the table, peering over to watch. Jeremy figures he has nothing better to do, since he already wasted most of the day and ditches his bag under the table before joining. 

"Where have you two been?" 

"Library." 

"Nerds," Rich drags out each syllable, though there's a smile on his face now. 

"I wasn't always this wild," Michael responds. 

"You used to punch babies," Rich says, then finally looks up from his drawing, straight to Jeremy with a deadpan expression. "Did he tell you he used to hit babies?" 

"Rich!" Michael chokes on thin air, turns to Jeremy, mortified, "When I was a toddler I used to pick fights with other toddlers," He defends himself in a strangled voice. "I do _not hit babies_." 

"His ma told me," Rich chortled out. 

Jeremy wants to laugh, but Michaels look of pure horror is enough to make him reach out a hand and pat the others shoulder. "I'm sure you've grown a lot as a person since those dark times." 

"Oh my god," Michael covers his face with two hands. 

By Rich’s proud, smug grin, Jeremy decides it’s not often Michael gets flustered. 

Jeremy likes graphic communication. 

\- 

Wasting most of the day turned into the entirety of the day. When the clock strikes 4pm, Reyes almost spills his coffee as he darts out of the room and Jake and Rich wave their goodbyes. 

“They stapled the drawings of themselves to their bags,” Jeremy whispers, as the scarily accurate, perfect drawing of Jake (except with the addition of a moustache) and cartoon sketched Rich disappear out the door. 

Michael nods, fondly. “Sure did.” 

It’s not even a moments worth of silence before Jeremys brain goes into overdrive of what to say next. He wants to spend more time with Michael, but he only met the dude today and he doesn't want to give of a clingy vibe, especially not with someone as cool as him. He fiddles with a thread on his bag strap, and doesn’t realise he's blanked out until- 

"Earth to Jeremy? You all good?" 

"Yes! Yes I- Are you busy this weekend?" 

"I'm all booked up for teenage angst and burning coursework," Jeremy must pale, because Michaels face breaks into an amused grin as he waves his hands reassuringly, "But for you, I can reschedule. What's up?" 

"My friend invited me to this horror movie, outdoor cinema thing. It's on Saturday so, there's some time to think about it- but if you want, no pressure, you can join, I-" 

"I'd love to!" 

"-F you- Okay! Great, yes," Jeremy hopes his relief comes across as excitement. "I'll ask Brooke if she can take you and text you or something." 

"Sure," Michael says with smile, the scoops up a pen from the table and gestures for Jeremys hand. 

Jeremy takes a moment to realise that he doesn’t have Michaels number, then shoots his hand out, and bites back a comment about how warm Michaels are as he cups his gently. He watches as he bites the lid off the pen, keeps it there and furrows his brows as he carefully jots down a number that contrasts against Jeremy's pale skin, just beneath the now faded 'D3'. 

He could count Michaels eyelashes right now, "I like you're handwriting." 

Michael pulls away, blinks, and removes the lid from his mouth. "Thanks, I write it with my hand," 

The bleak look on Michaels face makes him wonder if he actually meant that sarcastically or not. Jeremy snorts out a definitely-not-attractive laugh, which he quickly slaps a palm over. "Woah," He recovers, "I didn't even notice." 

They walk out of the building together, separating at the tunnel to head to different dorms with Michael waving so hard Jeremy wonders how he stays upright. He scans himself out, unquestionably more comfortable then he was entering, and struts to his simple, blue room. 

He throws his bag on the floor, only then remembering the work he'd stuffed inside it, kicks off his mangled shoes and flops onto his bed. 

Staring up at his ceiling, he considers the fact that he had the bonus company of Michael, some catching up time with Brooke and Christine, and under the impression he wouldn't forget to layer up, this weekend would be fun. Nice. 

Then a weight of dread takes over his body as he remembers he _hates_ scary movies.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \- Simon Reeves is indeed mum SQUIP because I'm a sucker for mum SQUIP  
> \- The evil toddler fighting toddler is something I can painfully relate to ,,  
> \- man, I can't wait for the angst train to choo choo all this happinEss awAy  
> \- Chloe, Jenna and screaming teens next up yo


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yo, it's me, the walking embodiment of fashionably late  
> 

Over the course of Monday to Friday, Jeremy finds out a lot about Michael. Small perks and habits. 

Like how he always has to be moving. Whether its dancing down a hallway, jogging on the spot or bouncing a leg under the table. Jeremy feels like a corpse compared. The most movement he’d shown all week was when Rich went to bro-fist him and he’d instinctively tipped his chair back so far that he’d almost fallen off. Rich now shouted _'Incoming'_ beforehand. 

Michael also sung Rick Astley unironically and Jeremy learnt whenever his hood was up, he was in a whole new dimension and had to be patted gently to be dragged back. 

Friday morning was no exception. 

"Morning good," His voice bounces as he flops into his seat and slips his bag onto the table. 

He glances at Michael who's furiously bouncing both legs and staring ahead, headphones making his hood sit on his head awkwardly. Hesitantly, Jeremy prods his shoulder once and is rewarded by big, brown eyes. They fix onto him blankly at first, before warming. 

"Jeremy!" Michael beams, scrambling to shove his glasses up his nose and pull down his headphones and hood simultaneously. Then tips his head to one side, "Are you okay?" 

Ah, Jeremy had almost forgotten he looked like a walking, sweaty corpse. "I feel like a walking, sweaty corpse." 

"Tired?" Michaels brows furrow. 

“Define tired?” 

“Zombie?” 

“Super tired.” 

“A super zombie,” Michael coos. “Are you sure you’re still up for tomorrow?” 

Jeremy scrunches his face up, as if it’ll help him remember what day it is. “Oh, movie. Yeah! Of course! I'll just- sleep." 

"That sounds like a healthy option," Michael says, nodding sincerely. 

Jeremy sticks his tongue out (which makes Michael snort loudly), before routing through his bag for his sketchbook and pen to hide his own grin. It's going to be a long day, he decides. 

\- 

It's a long day. Jeremy has to go to get re-inducted at the print room -since he switched speciality- with a very enthusiastic tutor who bounces around so much Jeremy wonders if she's gaining a headache. She teaches him the basic of printmaking, which he's grateful for because he couldn't remember anything from his previous introductions. Whilst he's there, he makes only one monoprint, because he still has no idea how to do printing well no matter how much he's inducted. His fingers are too shaky to produce anything impressive, but Jeremy splutters thanks anyway as he leaves. 

Michael's working on the wall, when he gets back to the studio, tongue sticking out of his mouth as he sketches onto the paper mercilessly. "Welcome back, how was printing?" 

"Like Chuck-E-Cheese as a little kid." 

"Terrifying then." A little smirk twists onto Michaels face as Jeremy whines dramatically, dragging a chair up to the wall. 

"Terrifying," Jeremy agrees, then inspects the piece he's working on. It's pretty, so far, even if it is just a simple pencil sketch. There's a sheet taped to the wall beside it, sketched on in blocky, messy writing _'Favourite way to kill free time'._

“Yeah, I’m going to portray the good side of time. For the brief.” 

Jeremy had realised he’d read it aloud, and feels his ears warm up. “The good side?” 

Michael nods once, then a little smile tugs on the corner on his lips. “We have limited time on this planet right? So, I’m focusing on how individuals spend it. How they best spend it- What makes them feel they’re making the most of it.” 

Jeremy stares. 

“I mean- it’s kinda vague, does it make sense?” 

“Yes! Yeah- it makes sense, it’s just-“ Jeremy stumbles for the words. “it’s nice. It’s different. Positive.” 

Michael beams, his shoulders relax. 

“I can’t wait to see more of your work,” Jeremy chirps, then realises he sounds like Mr Reyes and corrects himself, “Im sure- it'll be great.” 

Michael jiggles on his feet, and shoots Jeremy a grateful smile. “What about you?” 

“Whu-“ Jeremy sprouts intelligently. Then it clicks Michaels talking about the project. What about him? He hadn’t really thought about it. Time wasn’t something he enjoyed thinking about, constantly wondering if he was wasting it or taking it for granted or- “I have no idea.” He says instead, doubting Michael wants his teenage angst. 

The other shoots him a glance over his shoulder, then says, “If you need any help, hit me up.” 

From the look that accompanies his words, Jeremy isn’t sure whether he means help on the brief or help with emotions. Both are probably important, and he looks sympathetic, but Jeremy doesn’t ask, rather fiddles with a loose thread from his cardigan instead. “Thank you,” he says, suddenly noting how quiet the studio is. “Where’s Rich?” 

“Hungover,” Michael says. 

“But it’s Friday.” 

“He thought it was Saturday yesterday.” 

“ _How_? We were _in_ class?” 

“The man’s got mad skill. I have to parent him tonight if you want to join. We get to tease him 'n stuff.” Michael pauses his sketching to lean against the wall and grin at Jeremy. 

“You’re so kind-hearted,” Jeremy whispers, awestruck. “It’s amazing.” 

“I’ll bring him food so, he'll forgive me.” 

“And so tactful, too.” 

“What can I say. It’s not the first time Rich’s got drunk on a Thursday.” He shrugs. 

Jeremy doesn't doubt that a second as he begins working. He spends most of the day doing research. Mind mapping a bunch of ideas he could use but only one really appeals to him- How time changes everything. So, he cracks his knuckles and gets down with some rough thumbnails and sketches and the clock strikes three quickly. 

As they pack up, Michael announces they need to get a bunch of food to satisfy the fallen Rich, so they both pile into his car (half of the car journey is Jeremy exclaiming he had no idea Michael drove) and head to a local store. 

Stood in the middle of an aisle, Michael gripping the basket and 'oof'ing every time it collided with his shins, Jeremy pondered aloud, "So, hangover food. What is there?" 

Michael purses his lips, "Google it?" 

Jeremy does. He's scrolling through some website with way too many pop-ups, thumb sliding his phone screen as they sneak through the aisles like scavengers. "Eggs, pears, bananas-" 

Michael grabs Jeremys arm and narrowly guides him out of the way of an angry looking, old woman on a mission. 

"-Bread, whole grain bread. Huh, asparagus?" 

Michael scrunches his face up, "Rich would stab me if we turned up with fruit and veg." 

"And eggs." 

"And eggs." 

"And bread." 

"Who could deny bread?" He adds it to the basket. 

Then after what seems like walking through the store for twenty minutes, Michael stops and waves one hand around, "Let's just take him a McDonalds. Wanna grab some junk for tomorrow?" 

Jeremy looks at him as if that was even a question and snatches a handful of something unhealthy. Michael joins. Enthusiastically, they both pack the basket with crisps, chocolate, anything sweet, along with the loaf of bread- so much so, the cashier looks slightly concerned as they pay and stuff everything in bags. Three bags dig into Jeremys lap as they pile back into the Cruiser. 

"To McD's," Michael declares as he starts the cars ignition and she rumbles to life. Jeremy lets out a cheer, clutching the bags a little tighter to avoid a spillage and wondering why they didn't put these in the back. 

"Why didn't we put these in the back?" 

"They'd get lonely." 

Jeremy doesn’t even question it, just stares at Michael as he prods a button and [music swallows the car. ](https://youtu.be/5So6amgJ0so)He has no idea what it is, but he likes it. It's bittersweet. Or maybe it's not, and Jeremy just takes lyrics way too personally. 

Then again, Michael looks just as invested as he is. He's drumming his fingers rhythmically on the wheel and humming as his eyes flicker on the road. "So, Jer, what makes it worth it?" 

"What makes- what?" 

"What makes life worth it? Anything. I won't judge." 

Boy, that was a big question. What made life worth it? 

"Wait, I-" Michael stops, puffing out some air that made some loose strands of hair hanging over his forehead rise momentarily. "That's deep. Lemme rephrase. What- What's your favourite thing?" 

"Uh- I- I don't know?" Jeremy says, shifting in his seat and wondering if Michael's catching on his life isn't very exciting. That makes his stomach churn uneasily. Compared to everyone else, Jeremy always felt mundane. 

Christine already showed her flawless art off at galleries, on white, gleaming walls with an enthusiastic audience. She actively helped with local charity events and was the leader of the debate team. Brooke had gone abroad last year to gain more photography for her portfolio- she even modelled occasionally. She was an aunt- responsible, grown up. And Jeremy was- Just Jeremy. 

Michael didn't need to know that, he decided. Not yet. 

Michael glances at him, looking thoughtful. "I think there's a lot of good things everyone misses every day. Small things often get overlooked by the bigger stuff." 

"Like what?" Jeremy says, then slams his jaw shut. 

"Dogs." 

" _Dogs_?" 

"Aren't they perfect?" He says, a content smile curves back onto his face, and when Jeremy doesn't reply he adds, "Music, skating, baths, the smell of fall, uh-" 

"Hot chocolate," Jeremy says immediately, noting how Michael physically _beams_ at this. His hands feel clammy. 

"Right?" Michael says, and Jeremy opens his mouth to respond when he jerked forward in his seat. 

"Can I take your order?" A crackly, disgruntled voice comes through Michael's open window and Jeremy recognises the McDonalds drive thru shamefully late. 

Michael orders a meal for Rich, with a great bonus of twenty extra nuggets which makes Jeremy's legs feel weak. 

"You want anything?" He whispers over his shoulder. 

"Oh- I'm good, thanks," Jeremy says, before going back to staring at a woman who's struggling to get her kids under control in the car park. One's trying to climb on a car whilst the other one wails and flops dramatically around a bin. 

After paying, Michael leans back to dump the bag on the backseat before thrusting a cup in Jeremys face. 

Jeremy blinks, gingerly reaching over the bags to take it, "What's-" 

"You said you liked hot chocolate," he says, before once again dragging his hands back to the wheel. 

Jeremy wheezes, "You didn't have to! But- I do, yes, thank you." 

"It's only McDonalds," He chortles, "It's no problem." 

He blows the cocoa through the lid, desperate to taste it but knowing he'd scold his tongue and probably embarrass himself immediately if he did so. 

Jeremy decides he's going to buy Michael a dog one day. 

\- 

They arrive back on campus and travel to Michael and Rich's dorm, nuggets and hot chocolate safe in Jeremy's hands and the meal swinging in Michaels. Thankfully, their dorm is only two floors up, and Michael shoves open the door with an enthusiastic, "Ditchy Richy! We're home!" 

A groan comes from a lump in the bed and Jeremy puffs out his cheeks to refrain from laughing. He follows Michael further inside, taking the opportunity to look around. Their dorm is a lot more exotic then his- the walls littered with peeling posters and a cluttered desk stuffed in the corner. The mess made it seem a little more home-ly then Jeremy's. The air had a lingering scent of cider, however. Cider and regret. 

Michael wastes no time in pulling the covers off of Rich, who recoils like a snail, "No, Michael, don't be a-" 

"Language, we have a guest," Michael said sweetly, then dumps the food in front of him. "Greasy food, as promised." 

Rich stares at the food, and his scrunched up, gremlin impression relaxes into a look of pure _gratefulness_. "Oh my God, I love you," he chokes out, snatching up the box and ripping it open. 

Jeremy slid the nuggets onto the edge of the bed, quickly, so Rich didn't consume his hand too. "How are you feeling?" 

"I'm fabulous, now," Rich garbles around a mouthful of fries and Michael gags mockingly. 

The three of them decide to play some video games, volume on low after Rich complains his _'head feels like a sledgehammer took a run-n-dive at his skull'_. Michael sets up, tripping over some wires earning a squeak from Jeremy and a bellowing laugh from Rich, whose rewarded with a pillow to the face. It's almost impressive. 

The three of them sit in relative silence, Rich munching his food which Michael sometimes steals from, and Jeremy sipping his hot chocolate. Occasionally, bickering would interrupt, framed with amused grins and accompanied by playful shoves. 

It’s a zombie survival game, and so far, despite everything, they’re doing a good job at surviving. 

A loud chorus of instruments blare up and Jeremy jerks in surprise, just managing to snatch up his controller. Michaels dropped his, scrambling to his pocket and pulling out his phone as if it’s his lifeline. 

Glancing at his screen, his face lights up into a sight Jeremy’s never seen before. Bright and happy and _hopeful_. “I gotta take this,” he wheezes, bouncing up and out of the door before anyone can even protest. Jeremy’s smiling to himself, until his eyes reach Rich. 

His eyebrows are furrowed in a concerned manner, shoulders tense as he watches where Michael disappeared. 

“You okay?” 

“Yeah,” Rich replies grimly, dragging his gaze back to the screen. 

“I wonder what-“ 

“His characters low on health,” he interrupts, his thumbs automatically bashing into his controller as he bats away any zombies that roam too close to Michaels character. 

Jeremy ignores the nerves that makes his fingers twitch, and follows suite. He can’t seem to make his brain shut up as on screen he whacks a zombie on the head with a crowbar. Two game overs later, the door clicks open. 

Michael avoids Jeremy's eyes as he slumps back into his seat- silently recollecting his controller with an expression that’s unreadable. It's definitely a stark contrast to the one he left with. 

Jeremy wants to inquire what happened, who it was, but Rich slaps Michael's shoulder twice and his lips quirk into a smile that don't meet his eyes, "I forgot to pause." 

"It's no big," Rich reassures speedily, "We died but it was a valiant effort. New level?" 

Michael nods, distant. "Yeah. New level." 

Jeremy is sure his gaze is piercing, too obvious, so he focuses back on the screen where a new setting is loading. The characters pile into the scene with a chorus of cheesy-heroic lines as they charge into herds of zombies. 

He wants to say something but it seems out of place to do so. 

Rich's stealing all of the medicine and deciding whether to use a melee weapon or a pistol. 

Maybe later. 

Michaels boldly surging throughout the level and simply ignoring all enemies. 

Jeremy is- 

"Shoot!" Jeremy shrieks out as he runs into an ambush, rewarded with a tense cut scene of blood splattering everywhere. He groans, curling his legs to his chest and using his knees as a headrest. 

As time goes on, Rich drops out of the game in favour of watching in the comfort of his bed- where his eyes are already droopy and exhausted. Michael and Jeremy play a little longer, (Michael gradually seemed to cheer up as the game progressed), until he checks his phone and realises he should probably retreat to his own room. He says his farewells to Rich, telling him to get well soon and beware of Thursdays, before getting promptly flipped off. 

Jeremy follows Michael down the stairs, noting how his shoulders slump- and not the usual, relaxed way. It makes his chest ache, slightly. They reach the doors, the sky's already grey and cloudy. Jeremy opens his mouth to tell him he can talk to him any time if he needs it, he planned it all out in his head and he was prepared and ready and- 

"If you- I- Uh." _Why was this so difficult?_ "Thank you for hanging out, tonight." 

Michael shoots him a small smile, stuffing his hands into his pockets. "Anytime. Come over whenever, dude." 

"I’ll hold that against you,” Jeremy snorts, relieved when Michael responds with an amused look. 

"Please do." He shoves his glasses further up his nose with a knuckle. 

“Well, I’ll see you tomorrow!” Jeremy chirps, jogging down the steps that wobble under his weight. 

“Oh- yeah! Text me when you’re home!” 

Jeremy shoots out a hand with a new found enthusiasm and waves his goodbyes, peeking over his shoulder to watch Michael head back inside. 

If Michael wanted to talk about it, he could talk to Rich. He’d probably prefer to speak to Rich- he’d known him longer, after all. 

He probably knew he could talk to Jeremy if he wanted to, anyway. 

As he walks through the campus, he pulls his phone out of his pocket, ignoring the blaring warning of low battery as he scans through some messages. 

A blurry picture of a man dressed in a low budget superhero outfit in the streets from his dad, several pointless college emails and some spam on the group chat. Jeremy sucks in a deep breath, ignoring his dad in favour of reading through the early messages. 

_Canigula: Jeremy!!_

_GetLohst: he’s not even active, Chrissy ):_

_Canigula: He should be!! Simon had about 10 extra mugs of coffee compared to usual!!_

_GetLohst: mayb hes just becoming immune??_

Jeremy scrolled down, groaned as he typed out. 

_ImAFurry: who changed my nickname_

_GetLohst: Hes heere <3 _

_ImAFurry: pls_

_GetLohst: of course yous arrive when Christine leaves huh_

_GetLohst: youd_

_ImAFurry: dearest pologies_

_ImAFurry: hey,, a friend’s joining tomorrow if u don’t mind_

_GetLohst: oooooo , a special friend?_

_ImAFurry: just an amigo_

_Canigula: A graphic amigo?!_

_ImAFurry: Yuppers. So that’sxhxhill?_

_Canigula: Are you okay?_

_ImAFurry: thats chill?****_

_Canigula: How did that even...?_

_GetLohst: of course you can invite your date hun, anyone’s welcome_

_ImAFurry: heS NOT_

_GetLohst: ;)))_

_Canigula: ;);););;)_

Jeremy unlocked his door and scrambled to lock his phone. After spending a year with him in fine art, Brooke and Christine knew Jeremy painfully well, and the thought was impressive as well as unnerving. He stuffed his phone under the pillow, opting for a text-free, worry-free night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \- Anyone who does printing and leaves without fingerprints all over their work I admire you with my entire being  
> \- Can you believe Michael and Jeremy adopted Rich  
> \- Pologies, sorry if you dont like babbling  
> \- I lied about screaming kids, but so o n  
> \- kinda sad I couldn't introduce any other characters on this chapter but I will, try and smudge it up  
> \- [My tumblr ](http://softestcreep.tumblr.com) for anybuddy interested


End file.
